Noel
by Th3WorldOnFir3
Summary: Alright, fine - being a mutant bird freak doesn't seem that bad. But you have no idea. It sucks! One-shot character introductory.


"Damn," I breathed, frustrated, as the wooden arrow lodged itself into a tree, several feet beyond my scruffily painted target canvas. I reached over my shoulder for another and strung it in the bow, training my eyes on the center of the target. My ponytail was falling apart, and dainty locks of golden blonde hair fell in curls around my face, sticking to the sweat on my neck and forehead.

Keeping my belly and forearms tense, I let my fingers slip out of the way and for the umpteenth time today, the arrow hit all but the edge of the canvas. I sighed, disappointed at myself.

"Breathe, Ellie," said a soft, accented voice behind me.

I turned to frown at Aunty Bonita, who held a tall glass of icy lemonade. She sat down on one of two lawn chairs several yards away.

Breathe. Okay. I nodded toward her, strung another arrow, and inhaled slowly, taking aim. I closed my eyes as I let the air escape my lungs, and then opened them again, a renewed look of concentration on my face. Biting my lip, I let go. I watched it whiz through the air before it hit with a sharp _flunk. _Bullseye. Smack-dab, right in the middle. Lovely.

I smiled gently and lowered my bow. Aunty always knew what I was or wasn't doing properly. She was like a mother to me. Well, to be truthful, she wasn't even my aunt.

Aunty was old and short. Unlike me, she had dark skin and knotty black hair that was usually pulled into pigtails or a braid. She was overall distinctly Indian-looking, and even the way she lived was a mix of Native American culture and small-town style.

That's how I've been living since… well, since she rescued me. Explanation? Skip the next several paragraphs if you don't care. Here goes:

Just as anyone, I was born to a normal family. And then, of course, taken away by scientists. Or at least I hope I was taken away. I'd much rather think that than bear the thought that they'd sold me.

Anywho, I was experimented on as an infant, growing up in animal crates with just enough food to keep my body living. (Compared to most kids my age – fourteen – I'm really tall, and really light. But my body needs a Hell of a lot of food to keep me going.)

I developed skills, and features like obscene strength. I can see for miles; I heal fast. Oh, and I also have wings. Yea, if you look in the dictionary, you'll find a picture of me underneath "Avian American."

You see, I was supposed to join this sort of gang – well, they called it a flock because all six of the members had the same features. This 'flock' was lead by a girl – Max, I think. Maximum Ride.

But I was defective, I guess. I was clumsy, and I had trouble learning like the others. I've always been clumsy. So the scientists – whitecoats – at the place they called 'the School' wanted to get rid of me because of it. 'Retire' me, they said. Aunty Bonita was the whitecoat who had raised me.

When she was asked to personally 'retire' me, she stole me from the School, and said that I was 'retired.' Eventually, she left the school and got another job. I guess she must have realized how much wrong and evil the School really did. So since then, I've lived with her on an Indian reserve, some place in America. I just called it 'Freaking Nowhere, USA.'

She was the closest person to me. Heck, she was the only person close to me. I loved her like a real mother, since she acted like one; she taught me table manners, how to cook, to cover my mouth when I cough.

Okay, enough about me, on with my happy little memory.

"That's my girl," said Aunty, handing me the lemonade as I walked up. The chilly condensation felt wonderful on my sweaty palms. I sipped at it contently for a second, and then wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.

"I wish I was better," I said, passing off her comment with a shrug. It made me shy to be complimented.

"Don't say that," she chided softly. "You're just fine."

My cheeks flushed and I gave her a bashful smile, which she returned.

Just then her smile suddenly faded and one hand flew up to clutch at her chest, repeatedly grabbing handfuls of poncho. She fell back in her chair, and choking sounds escaped her open mouth as she gasped unsuccessfully for air. Horrified, I shrieked and held up her head. She was wheezing, and quaking in my arms.

"_Help!_" I screamed uselessly, though it was doubtful that anyone on the reservation was around. Reluctant to leave Aunty Bonita with her spasms, I leaped over the chair and burst through the door of our woodsy house. I snatched the nearest telephone handset and fumbled with the dial pad; my trembling fingers scored 911, and I held it to my ear.

It rang once. I bit my lip, holding my breath.

It rang twice. My fist clenched tight at my side, and I looked outside again. Aunty was still now, and that only made my fluttering heart skip a beat.

"Nine-One-One, state your emergency," answered a hard voice of a woman in the speaker.

"Please send an ambulance, my aunt had a heart attack!" I whimpered into the phone, my voice cracking at several points.

"I'm sending a team. Stay with your aunt. Keep her awake. Do you know where you are?" She was unreasonably calm, and I wanted to scream.

"No, but—"

"Then I'll track your call."

"Fine!" I shouted into the receiver. I dropped the phone and ran back outside to Aunty Bonita. Her eyes were closed, but she was twitching violently.

"Aunty!" I cried, holding her face between my hands. Hot tears fell from my pale cheeks and onto hers. "Please, wake up…"

Moments later, I heard shrill sirens and I glanced up to see red and blue lights flashing around the trees that surrounded mine and Aunty's picture-perfect house.

Two fire trucks and an ambulance skidded into the driveway, and several men hopped out of all three vehicles.

They pulled a gurney out of the back of the ambulance and rolled it toward us. One of them approached me with a clipboard, and I tried hard not to back away. (I hadn't spoken to anyone in person since I escaped the School, and my social skills were way down there.) I mean, I knew he wasn't going to whack me with it, he was a good guy, but still.

"She just— …I didn't—" I stuttered, trying to explain it all in one word.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked in a cut-the-crap tone.

"Noel," I managed to say.

He wrote that down, then put the clipboard under his arm. "Alright, come with me," he said, and led me into the passengers' seat of the ambulance. I sat there, feeling small and useless in the overstuffed, latex cushion while the guy checked with his partner in the back of the truck.

By now, the firemen had left, and I was grinding my teeth. Finally, I heard the doors slam shut and the guy climbed into the driver's seat.

The ride was all but painful, and all I wanted to do was jump out and _fly_ to the hospital. Moments later, I was walking along side Aunty Bonita's gurney, holding her hand as we were rushed into a room. I tried to see her, to make sure she was okay, but I was repeatedly shoved out of the way by men in long white coats. Finally, one of them booted me out.

I found a chair in the hallway and sat there, unable to keep still.

And what seemed like hours later, an worn-looking nurse came out and told me to come in. Biting my lip – which is apparently a nervous habit for me – I entered the room, eyes on my Aunty at the first second. Her own dark eyes were half shut, but they followed me as I jolted myself forward to her bed.

"Aunty…" I whimpered pathetically. She didn't look good.

The atmosphere in the room was solemn. And a quick glance around told me the whitecoats were waiting to lay on the bad news.

"Ellie, don't worry," she said, and I could tell she was having trouble getting the words around her tongue. That made me really worry. She blinked slowly and took in a strained breath. "I'm sorry, El." She closed her eyes and said nothing more. Her breaths were slow, but they didn't stop, which gave me the slightest glimmer of hope.

One of the whitecoat stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Noel, we can't do anything. Her heart can't take it."

The little glimmer of hope I had just a second ago vanished. Poof. _There has to be something…_I thought desperately.

"Say your goodbyes," whispered a nurse, as gentle and sympathetic as a girl could be.

I felt like fainting just then. Everything seemed surreal. Despite myself, I turned back to Aunty Bonita, my legs shaking, threatening to give in at any second.

"I love you, Ellie," she croaked.

I swallowed a wave of emotion. "I love you too, Aunty!"

She rasped painfully, probably with the last of her breath. "Don't forget who you are, El…"

What in bloody Hell was that supposed to mean! This whole thing felt like a melodramatic soap opera.

I held onto the bed railings for support. "Then who am I, Aunty? Who am I?"

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Her eyes closed, and the painful sound of her breath died. And with it, she died as well. Right there, right in front of me. I'd always dreamed of a never-ending, safe life with her. And now I was alone. I wouldn't let myself go into foster care. No. I just wouldn't.

Overwhelmed, I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!"

I heard someone coming toward me, felt a comforting hand on my shoulder. I knocked it away, and ran to the other side of the room, where the whole wall was glass. Outside, the sun was on its way down, and it was bright. Really bright. But I had to get out of here, away from the whitecoats, away from the unbreathing corpse that was Aunty Bonita. Away from my life. To begin a new life, start a journey to God-knows-where.

The wall of glass was thick, I could tell. I grabbed the lamp from one of the tables beside an empty bed, ignoring the startled shrieks and shouts from the hospital staff members in the room, and threw it with all my strength at the glass. It shattered, and some of the shards hadn't even hit the ground before I tore off my overcoat, unfurled my wings, and hurled myself out, seven stories over a busy city road.

With only a few down strokes, I was rising quickly. Then I was headed toward my home for the last time in my life. I would take nothing but my bow, iPod, and a picture of Aunty Bonita and me that was stashed somewhere in a book on a shelf in my room. Then I was on my own.


End file.
